


Highest Heaven to the Lowest Earth

by romanticalgirl



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Body Modification, Discussion of Abortion, Gen, Graphic Description, Wings, discussion of miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 10:10:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11965218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: The serum and the Winter Soldier weren't the last plans Hydra had for James Barnes. He's free of their control, but not free of them.





	Highest Heaven to the Lowest Earth

**Author's Note:**

> Clarification of tags at the bottom.

It starts six months after he wakes up. The doctors in Wakanda had warned him that something lingered – not a trigger – but something in his cerebro-spinal fluid that was nothing like anything in Steve, and that no amount of work on their part seemed to be able to identify. It was a mystery and possibly nothing.

Bucky doesn’t think anything Hydra did was nothing.

He knows he’s right when he falls to his knees in the middle of Steve’s kitchen, crying out from the excruciating pain that feels like it’s piercing him through, a steel rod through his back and chest, a hard knot in his throat he can’t breathe past. Steve drops down next to him, his hand on his lower back. He can feel the vibration of Steve’s breath, but can’t hear anything past the rushing in his ears, the frantic beating of his heart. 

Finally Steve’s voice penetrates the fog and Bucky raises his head. Tears blur his vision and he tries to blink them back, but they feel like they’re frozen, a glaze in front of his eyes. It still hurts to breathe and Bucky can feel the bile rising against his frantic swallowing. 

“Buck? Jesus, Buck? Can you hear me?”

He tries to nod, but he can’t manage more than a meager tip of his head. 

“Are you okay? No, you’re not okay. Are you hurt? What can I do?”

Bucky tries to formulate some sort of response, but another spike of pain goes through him. He falls face first onto the floor, muscles refusing to obey him and catch him before he hits. The floor is cool against his forehead and the blood from his nose is hot against his face. His whole body convulses and he vomits. Disgust laces through him because he can’t move his head, can’t get out of his mess, but then another pain goes through him and he’s lifted off the ground like there are hooks in his shoulders pulling him toward the ceiling.

Steve’s still talking, but Bucky can’t parse the words, he can only hear the panic in the pitch of his voice. He looks down at Steve, his stomach lurching again as the world feels like it twists upside down, inside out. Steve reaches up above his head and grabs Bucky’s wrist, holding onto him like the apartment might not contain him. Bucky shifts and straightens so he’s standing in the air, and his head slams against the ceiling, and the feeling of the hooks is gone and replaced by the shredding of skin as whatever it was seems to rip free of Bucky’s body.

He falls, but Steve catches him, lowering him to his feet. Bucky leans on him heavily, resting his head against the hollow of Steve’s throat. 

“Bucky--” Steve starts, then stops as his hand moves up Bucky’s back. He pulls his hand away and they both stare at the blood -- red and black -- that’s dark and thick on Steve’s palm. Steve uses his other hand to turn Bucky around, and the room is heavy with silence. 

“What?” Bucky asks, voice barely breaking the quiet.

“We… Um, we need to get to the Tower.”

“ _What_ , Steve?”

Steve grabs Bucky’s hand and guides him into his bedroom, angling him in front of the bathroom mirror before half shutting the door so that the full-length one shows Bucky’s back in his reflection. Whatever had felt like hooks actually did rip through Bucky’s skin. He can see the white of his scapulae through the shredded flesh, but what should be the smooth surface is covered with a spiderweb of black ropy lines that curve and coil and come together into a hard knob at the inner edge like a black bone extending from either side of Bucky’s body.

“What the _fuck_.”

“Tony.” Is all Steve says. Bucky doesn’t want to go anywhere _near_ Tony, but he’s closer than Wakanda and, if they’re lucky, he’ll actually let his doctors work on Bucky instead of kicking them both out on their ass. 

“Tony hates me.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, though he does look at Bucky in the mirror. Bucky can see the fear and worry in Steve’s eyes, and it’s a look that he hates. He’s seen it too many times. He hates Steve feeling afraid for him. Not just because it used to be Bucky’s job to feel that way about Steve, but because he’s supposed to be fucking better, supposed to be almost human. 

“Right. Tower.”

“We’ll take the bike so… Well, no seat back to deal with.” 

Bucky laughs harshly. “I need to clean up. You got something I can borrow?”

Steve nods and disappears from the reflection. Bucky feels another burst of anger, because this is something that he doesn’t want to happen either. Steve thinking about the fact that Bucky doesn’t live with him, that he needs the independence that having a roommate or a lover can’t give him. But now Steve is digging out some of his clothes for Bucky to wear, emphasizing the fact that Bucky doesn’t have anything of his own here, that Bucky was just visiting. 

Steve comes back with a shirt and a pair of jeans not soaked in blood and bile. It’s one of the t-shirts that Bucky knows Steve wears when he’s lazing around the house, but now there are two holes in the back of it, spaces for the protrusions on Bucky’s back. “Shit, Steve.”

“It’s old.”

“It’s one of your favorites.”

“It’s old and worn, Buck.”

“Steve--”

“Drop it.” Steve’s mouth snaps shut, and it feels like the words echo in the room. Steve’s house is still spartan, still looks like a showplace that no one really lives in. Not being an Avenger hasn’t changed how Steve lives his life, how he adapts. That’s another thing Bucky hates. 

“Help me get it on over them?” He rips the shirt he’s wearing so he can just let it drop off his shoulders. It catches slightly on the black knobs, and Steve eases it off of them. The shirt feels like a soft scrape, but Steve’s fingers burn. Bucky sucks in a breath and grips the counter hard enough that a stress fracture appears in the top. “Shit. Sorry,” he pants.

“Don’t worry. I paid the security deposit.” Steve sounds choked, and Bucky’s relatively certain that the thought that his touch seemed to hurt Bucky has Steve hating himself. 

“Yeah, well, I owe you, I think.”

Steve helps Bucky on with the shirt, careful not to touch him at all. Bucky aches, but he’s able to pull off his jeans without help. Steve doesn’t stay once Bucky’s fingers are on the button of his fly, leaving the bathroom and the bedroom. Bucky can hear the low sound of Steve’s voice, and he knows he’s on the phone. He can practically hear Tony’s scathing responses.

He waits until it’s quiet to walk back out into the kitchen. Steve’s got the mess on the floor cleaned up, and he’s staring out the window with his hands shoved in his pockets and his shoulders hunched. “You okay?”

Steve barks out a broken laugh. “Yeah. Just fine. I’m not the one with… Things growing out of my back. I’m peachy.”

“Steve.”

“Let’s go. Tony said he’ll have Dr. Cho standing by. He told us to go straight to the hospital floor.” Steve grabs the two helmets by the door as well as his keys. Bucky makes sure to at least turn the lock on the knob before they leave. They didn’t have anything during the Depression and the ‘40s, so there was never a need, but now Steve has things Bucky thinks he probably doesn’t want to lose. Maybe. Bucky’s pretty sure he doesn’t have as good a read on Steve as he likes to think.

**

The wind feels hollow on Bucky’s back, which doesn’t make any sense to him, but something makes it seem like he can breathe. He closes his eyes and keeps his arms right around Steve’s waist. Steve wants him to belong there, and Bucky wishes that he did, wishes that he could. Instead he buries his head against Steve’s back and lets the wind and the world rush around them. 

The underground garage door opens immediately, which is the only sign that they’re expected and allowed. The doors don’t normally open for them anymore. Bucky knows that hurts Steve, but he also knows Steve wouldn’t change anything. FRIDAY says hello to them and then the elevator takes them straight up to the medical floor without another word. Steve leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. That means two things with Steve -- either he’s angry as hell, or he’s defensive and hurt. It doesn’t take much to figure out what this one is.

Dr. Cho meets them when the elevator stops. She shakes Steve’s hand and then Bucky’s. They’ve met once when Dr. Cho came to Wakanda after Bucky’s medical treatment there was complete so she could ask questions about Bucky’s abilities and his arm just in case. Bucky’s not sure if the unspoken part of that was “just in case he goes full-on psycho again” or “in case he helps out and gets hurt”. 

“So. Tell me what happened.”

Bucky glances at Steve and recounts everything, trying to figure out a way to describe the severity of the pain. Steve adds a few things, but mostly he stands there and seems to get smaller with every word. Dr. Cho gets a furrow between her brows that gets deeper as Bucky goes on. 

“I’ll need to examine you. Do you think your healing factor has done anything regarding this?”

“I’ve stopped actively bleeding. That’s about as much as I can tell you, doc.”

“All right. Let’s get your shirt off. This way.” 

“Stay here, alright, Stevie?”

Suddenly Steve’s the 5’4” kid whose mother just died. He looks stricken and sad and so determined not to let anything hurt him. Anything else. “Sure, Buck.” Bucky watches him for a moment as he turns around and finds a chair somewhere out of the way, not looking back as he hunches over. 

Dr. Cho helps Bucky out of the shirt and turns a bright light onto his back. Bucky can feel the heat and the soft touch of her hands on his skin. Her touch makes the black knobs sting, but it doesn’t hurt anything like Steve’s touch had. “They’re sensitive?”

“Yeah. You sting. Steve burned.”

“Hmm.”

“What does that mean?”

“Honestly? I’ve got no idea, but more information is better. They seem to be bone.”

“Black bone?”

“Do you mind if I scrape off a few cells?”

“Scrape?”

“Something blunt not sharp. I’d like to do a marrow biopsy, but I’m thinking that might not be wise at this point.”

“Yeah, go ahead.” Bucky watches her out of the corner of his eye as she gets a couple of instruments then looks away. The tool she’s using runs along the side of the black mass and then suddenly something _rips_ inside Bucky. Dr. Cho gasps as Bucky barely stifles a scream, not wanting Steve to come running. “W-wh-what happened?”

“FRIDAY? Could you have Mr. Stark come here, please?”

“Of course, Dr. Cho.”

“Tony? Why Tony?”

“I just… I’d like his opinion on this before we go further.”

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. I don’t know at all.”

**

“Tell me, when you lost the shield did you get demoted? Are you, like, Private America now?” Tony’s voice carries, and Bucky’s almost certain it was meant to. He doesn’t hear Steve answer, which probably means Steve doesn’t. “Where’s the murder boyfriend? Hopefully not murdering my doctor like he did my parents.”

Steve continues to be silent, but the metal plates of Bucky’s left arm whir as they recalibrate. He doesn’t care what Tony says or does to him, but every time he digs at Steve, Bucky has the urge to beat Tony senseless, to make him wish he had ripped out the arc reactor. It’s a thought he does his very best to keep to himself, because if Steve knew, his fears about Bucky would coalesce into something neither of them wants to think about, even though Bucky’s sure it’s never actually far from their minds.

Dr. Cho goes to the door and looks at Tony. Bucky sees past her that Steve is still in the chair, not looking at Tony. His whole body is stiff, every muscle bunched. Bucky wants Steve to attack, to shut Tony up, but he knows he won’t. Steve’s steeped in guilt that Bucky is fairly certain goes back to the day on the train and nothing Bucky does or says is going to change that. 

“You’re alive and kicking. Always good. So, T2. What technological marvel to I have to perform to help my ex-Avenger, ex-friend’s mass murdering lover?”

“Nothing.” Bucky slides off the table and grabs the shirt then brushes past Dr. Cho and Tony. “I’m never letting him ask you for anything again. Even being a genius doesn’t make you worth it.” He starts walking before he realizes there’s dead silence behind him. Steve is standing, frowning as he looks at all of them, and then his eyes widen. Bucky’s about to ask what the hell is going on when suddenly every inch of him explodes in pain and his whole body is ripped apart.

**

Bucky comes to on a hospital gurney, lying on his stomach. Everything feels heavy and he doesn’t think he could lift himself up as far as his elbows -- much less stand -- even if he wanted to. He senses someone beside him and opens one eye to the sleek curve of Natasha’s thigh. “Well. Good morning to you too.”

She smacks him lightly on the back of his head. “Not the time for jokes.”

“Well, if lying on a gurney in searing agony isn’t the time, when is?” He turns his head and she squats down so they’re face to face. “Where’s Steve?”

“In the other room. Having a breakdown.”

“Shit. I should…” He starts to lift up, then realizes he’s starting to rise and the air in the room is moving. “What the fuck?”

Natasha moves a mirror in front of him and tilts it. Bucky looks and his mouth drops open. “That’s what.”

“What the _fuck_?”

“Apparently whatever the scientists and doctors in Wakanda saw in your spinal fluid has activated.”

Bucky stares into the mirror at the feathers that hang from thin bones sprawling out from his back. They’re dark against the bone, fading to a pale gray at the bottom. “ _What the fuck_.”

“Tony’s having a field day with the jokes. That’s another reason Steve’s nowhere around. From what I understand it got a little… Heated.”

“Wishing he had the shield and calling on whatever version of his suit Tony’s on heated?”

“Not quite that bad. Mostly.”

Bucky closes his eyes and tries to sit up. He can feel the pull of the wings and he looks over his shoulder to glare at them as they take the weight of his body shift. “I need to get Steve and get out of here.”

“No. You really don’t. I mean, mutants and advanced humans aren’t completely unusual but I’m not sure if you realize people are going to notice that you have wings. Black wings. Foreboding as hell wings.”

“Fuck.” He curls his hands into fists. “Where’s Steve. I want to see him. Either here or take me to him.”

“Steve’s really not… Well. Right now.”

“Which is why I need to see the self-flagellating bastard.”

Natasha looks like she’s going to say something, and then she shrugs. Bucky knows she knows he’s not wrong. He has to turn sideways going out the doors and he stands in the hall with the edges of his wings jammed against the walls. “Can you… Pull them in or anything? Like a bird? Against your body? Or like jet wings?”

“I don’t know!” He tries to think, tries to figure out how to maneuver. He gets frustrated and angry and his shoulders tighten. The movement makes his wings fold in, small waterfalls of feathers behind him. “I need someone to find me a whole lot of Hydra to kill because of this.”

“Let’s worry about Steve first, hmm?”

**

Steve’s on a non-secure floor in one of the conference rooms standing next to the windows and watching the dying light. He doesn’t look behind him when the door opens. Doesn’t move at all. Bucky glances at Natasha and she shrugs, letting him make the choice as to whether she stays or goes. 

“Steve?”

“Yeah.” He still doesn’t move. 

“And Sister Catherine said I wasn’t a little angel.” Steve doesn’t move, but something changes, something imperceptible. Maybe he’s frowning or maybe he’s smiling. Bucky can’t see his face, can’t see _him_. “Not sure I’m gonna be able to ride the bike home.”

“Dr. Cho wants you to stay. Wants to run some tests. If you want her to.”

“I want you to look at me.”

“You want me to have someone send you some clothes? I guess just pants, right? Your shirts aren’t going to quite fit anymore.”

“Steve.”

“It’s never going to end, is it? Hydra. Hatred. Anger. I keep living and dying for nothing, Buck. I’m gonna go home. I’ll have someone bring you some stuff.” He shakes his head and finally turns away from the window. He looks so damn broken. “Let them help you, okay? Dr. Cho is really good.”

“Steve.” Bucky sighs. “Natasha? Give us a minute?”

Her eyes narrow and her mouth is a thin line, but she nods finally and leaves the room. Bucky takes a deep breath and walks over to Steve. He starts to lean back against the window and then realizes he can’t, so he leans his elbow against it instead. 

“I need you to stop being a selfish ass for a minute.” Steve’s gaze snaps up to Bucky’s, his eyes flashing. Before he can say anything, Bucky goes on. “Because yeah, this is weird as fuck and it kind of sucks, but it happened to _me_. Not you. And it wasn’t your fault. And if you say anything about the goddamned train, I’m going to punch you in the face with this goddamned metal arm, and we know you don’t like that. Or, well, you probably do because you’re a fucking masochist.”

“Wow. I’m not sure how you really feel here, Buck.” Steve straightens, his jaw tightening so the vein of it throbbing is pronounced.. “More reason for me to get out of here. And, for what it’s worth, I’m not trying to make this about me. I’m fucking tired. That’s all. It’s one thing after another, and I can’t even do anything for the people I lo… The people that matter to me. And what good is any of this if I can’t do that? You’ve got wings. _Wings_ , Bucky. And I’ve got no clue what to do with that. So I’m going to go and let the people who might have a chance of helping you work with you and not get in the way. For once.”

“Steve.” Bucky grits out.

Steve’s voice goes hard. “What?”

Bucky’s aware he’s about to go too far. He can’t seem to stop himself then. “You’re right. You should go.”

Something crumbles in Steve’s eyes. Something light goes out of them just as the sun dips behind a building to disappear for the night. “Goodnight then.” He brushes past Bucky and by the time Bucky thinks to follow him, Steve’s vanished into the elevator, the numbers counting down.

**

T’Challa shows up in his private jet with several of his doctors who go over the scans Dr. Cho took. They let Bucky go for the night, and Tony begrudgingly shows him to what must have been intended to be Steve’s floor. The shield is embedded in the wall, about half of it sticking out into the room. 

He looks around, wondering if there’s any of Steve here. He gets a text from Natasha telling him to come to the common room, and Bucky goes, following FRIDAY’s directions obediently. He sits on the arm of the couch and Clint walks around him, ducking in to look at where the wings protrude from Bucky’s skin. The flesh has healed around them and the feathers seem fuller, lusher.

The elevator slides open and the three of them look up. Sam’s standing there with a duffel bag hooked over his shoulder. Natasha smiles and Clint waves. Sam gives them a brusque nod, walks over to Bucky, drops the bag at his feet, and hits Bucky with a hard left hook. Bucky’s head snaps to the side and his wings rise up over him. Sam doesn’t even look up at them. “Guess I have a chance to rip one of yours off now.”

Bucky doesn’t mean for his voice to drop to a growl, but it does. “You can try.”

“Steve asked me to give this to you.” He drops whatever’s in his hand onto the floor and turns back to the elevator. “Oh, and tell Tony we’re on a strictly ‘don’t call us, we’ll call you’ plan now.” He looks back at them and all Bucky can see is hardness in Sam’s eyes. “Pretty sure we can find the Avengers in the phone book.”

Sam leaves and Bucky sees Nat and Clint look at each other. Bucky drops his gaze to what Sam let fall. It landed behind his bag, so Bucky pushes it out of the way with his foot so he can see. It’s a key on a silver keychain with a small replica of the shield on it. Steve’s copy of Bucky’s house key.

“You ever met a bridge you didn’t burn, Barnes?”

Bucky swallows, picks up the key and the bag and goes back to his rooms, glad Steve never lived in them, not sure he could take the reminder right now.

**

“They appear to be completely natural, no metal detected. We assume that the catalyst in your spinal fluid was activated in some way, which caused the reaction.” T’Challa’s head scientist, Dr. Bwambe, points to one of Bucky’s scans. “There are lines like the ones on the scapulae that extend to your spine. We believe they’re sturdy enough to actually allow flight.”

“Can I get rid of them?”

“I’m not sure.”

Dr. Cho shrugs. “They’re organic. It would require seriously invasive surgery. And, given how they react to stimuli, I’m wary of simply detaching them at the surface of the skin.”

“Indeed,” Dr. Bwambe continues. “They are a part of you now, Mr. Barnes. Even with the prosthetic, you have lost one limb. It is possible that losing your wings may wreak additional havoc, similar to losing an actual appendage.”

“Fuck.”

Dr. Cho nods. “That sums it up pretty succinctly.” She glances to the side, and Bucky sees Tony in the doorway. “However, we don’t think there’s any danger. Your body doesn’t seem to be rejecting them in any way. We could run more tests, but I honestly don’t think they’ll show us much of anything.”

“So I’ve got wings. I’m free to go. That’s what I’m getting?”

“Here.” Tony throws something at Bucky and he catches it reflexively. It’s a small box, about the size of a key fob. Tony comes over and moves between Bucky’s wings, spreading them apart with firm hands. His fingers brush over the bones just above Bucky’s skin and it feels like ice invading his blood. “Masking technology. They’re still going to be there, so if you turn around fast you’re going to smack into things, or someone comes up behind you, they’re going to get a mouthful of feathers, so don’t think out of sight out of mind. Also, I hope Cap’s willing to take it up the ass, because he’s not gonna be able to be on top anymore.”

Bucky tightens the metal hand into a fist one finger at a time. The entire room is silent. “I can’t decide if you’re upset about your parents or jealous that Steve wants nothing to do with you. Were you hoping to get over Pepper by fucking Steve?”

Using Steve in the argument -- using Steve in _this_ argument -- makes Bucky sick to his stomach. And Bucky’s not sure whether it’s what he said or that he said it at all that makes Tony’s face turn to stone. Tony’s teeth snap sharply on his words. “Get. Out.”

Bucky turns on his heel and leaves the medical wing, heading to the apartment and getting his stuff. He hasn’t unpacked any of it, just dug around inside for things each day. He doesn’t even try to mess with FRIDAY, just rides down to the main floor and leaves the building. It’s a long walk to his apartment, but the fresh air -- or as fresh as it got in New York City -- feels good. 

He pulls out his phone and checks to see if anyone’s called or texted since that morning. There aren’t any notifications, and Bucky’s fairly certain there won’t be from here on out. People are avoiding him, but not looking at him with horror or fear, so Tony must have at least turned the masking on. Bucky can still feel them, their negligible weight, the way they shift slightly in the wind. 

He hunches his shoulders since he isn’t wearing a jacket, and the t-shirt he’s wearing has holes ripped in the back, safety-pinned together above the wings. He’s going to have to figure out how to improvise clothes before he buys a whole new wardrobe. Fortunately in the meantime he can destroy the shirts he has because apparently he’s stuck with the wings. 

His footsteps slow. He realizes he’s not far from Steve’s apartment. It’s not exactly out of the way to get to Bucky’s place, but it’s not the easiest or most direct route either. Bucky glances around and then ducks into the alley nearby, tossing his bag up onto the roof before climbing up himself. He moves stealthily over the buildings until he’s close enough to see Steve’s. There’s a light on and, moving a little closer, Bucky can see Steve sitting up in bed, book propped on his knees. 

After a few moments, Steve’s head falls forward. It’s not the dreamily slow drift of Steve falling asleep. It’s him hiding his face from everything. Bucky knows he’s not the same person he was when Steve knew him before. He knows Steve’s not the same now either, but sometimes Bucky has the irrational wish that he could have the old Steve back. Not the small, sickly Steve. He wants the Steve who never surrenders, never gives up. The Steve who believes in everything he’s fighting for. The Steve that isn’t stuck in shades of gray.

Bucky stands up and laces his fingers together, lifting his arms up in a stretch. Whether reflexive or otherwise, Bucky’s wings unfurl to their full span for the first time. He flips the control Tony gave him and he can see the wings catch the moonlight. The black gleams and the gray fades like shadows. They seem to stretch forever. Bucky lets his head fall back and just feels them stretch and flutter in the wind. He doesn’t think about it, but then they’re moving and, like before, he can feel them lifting him. 

He has no desire to fly, so he bunches his shoulder muscles and they fold in again. He drops the couple of feet to the ground and sits back on the roof. Steve’s talking on the phone to someone now, and Bucky wishes he knew who, wishes he knew what he was saying. Hoping that what Bucky had said to Tony isn’t leaving the med lab. 

He puts his hand down on the cement next to him just as an arrow thuds down, millimeters away. Bucky looks at the arrow and pulls the note attached to it free. 

_look up and to your left and bring my arrow back, asshole_.

Bucky doesn’t bother to look for Clint, just heads in that direction. Clint is several buildings away, sitting on someone’s fire escape. Bucky swings up there, a quick flap of his wings keeping him balanced when he jumps. It’s different and strange. He tucks his wings back in and sits next to Clint, handing over the arrow. 

Clint takes it and reseats it in his quiver before pulling a flask out of his vest. He hands it over to Bucky. “Don’t worry. It’s the good stuff. Natasha would kill me if I bought anything less.”

“What are you doing here?” He takes a drink and lets the vodka burn. He can’t get drunk anymore, really, but the feel of it working its way down his throat is the same. “Following me?”

“Checking up on our fearless leader.”

“Any leader that doesn’t have fear needs to be relieved of the position.” Bucky absently leans back on his hands, and feels his wings bunch against the roof. “Besides, not the leader anymore, remember? Part of the whole pardon shebang.”

“Ross can say what he wants. When the shit starts flying, the one we’ll listen to is Cap.”

“And if he’s not there?”

Clint shrugs. “Then either we get lucky or we kiss our asses goodbye.”

“No.” Bucky shakes his head. “You’re a good team, even without Steve. You’ll be just fine.” Bucky leans forward, folding his arms across his kneecaps. He’s farther away from Steve, but he can see he’s still hunched over on the bed. “Not sure he will be.”

“Ask you a question?”

“Do I actually have the option of saying no?”

Clint seems to think for a minute, even though Bucky knows it’s just for show. “No.”

“Ask then.”

“So he’d Orpheus his way through hell for you, right? So I know he loves you.” Clint looks at Bucky’s face and stops. Bucky can only imagine the look he’s wearing. “I’m just curious what inspires it all? The loyalty? Is it just because when you were kids you kept pulling his ass out of the fire?”

“Steve doesn’t give up on people. He doesn’t walk away. And for some reason when we first met, even though he was angry that I’d barged in on his fight, he just seemed to look at me and decide I was where he wanted to be. And, god, he’s not the only one who’d walk through hell.”

“So why are you out here when he’s in there?” Clint tilts his bow in the direction of Steve’s apartment as if to indicate the distance. “You love him too, right?”

“I’m not sure if you noticed this, Clint, but I have _wings_.”

“Aliens came through a hole in the sky. Tony made a killer AI and then Vision manifested. Steve survived seventy years in the ice. You survived… Well, a lot of shit. Wings are nothing.” Clint shrugs. “None of us are normal, and none of us _expect_ normal.”

“He doesn’t need more shit on his plate.”

“You’re a fucking idiot if you think that this isn’t on his plate. He loves you. Like a friend. Like family. But you can bet your sweet ass that right now he feels like the person he’s in love with is pushing him away. God, you two are so determined to save each other from pain you’re going to kill each other.” Clint stands up and smacks Bucky on the top of his head with the upper curve of the bow. “Go see him.”

“I can’t.”

“You know how you freak out when there’s a possibility that someone might hurt Steve? How you go all choking and murder on them?”

“That’s an exaggeration.”

“Right now the only person hurting Steve is you.”

**

Bucky glares in the direction Clint disappeared for a while, then turns his gaze back to Steve. Steve’s bedroom light is off, though the bedside lamp is giving off a soft, golden glow. Bucky moves closer, getting back to his earlier spot. Steve’s stretched out on the bed. On the surface he looks relaxed, but Bucky can see the tension coiled in him. 

He knows, despite denying it, that Clint’s right. What happens to Bucky affects Steve and vice versa. He reactivates the masking device and climbs off the roof, using his key to get into Steve’s building. The desire to go home is equally as strong, but, if nothing else, Bucky owes Steve an apology. He climbs the stairs and knocks. He can’t help shifting from foot to foot as he waits. He knows Steve can hear the knock, but he’s not actually sure that Steve will answer the door. He hears a shuffle inside and takes a step back just before Steve swings the door open. “Buck.”

“Hey. Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Steve takes a step back and to the side to clear the way. Bucky walks in and has a moment of unreality. This is where this whole fucking thing started. “What brings you here?”

“I was an asshole. Back at the lab.”

“You said what was on your mind.” Steve shrugs and Bucky exhales roughly. “You don’t owe me anything, Bucky. And you’re right. I’m selfish. You were right to tell me to leave. You need to heal, and I’m so fucked up I can’t help you do that. And you’ve known it for a while, but I guess you’re still taking care of me at your own expense.”

“Goddamn it, Steve, you’re the least selfish person I know.” Bucky sighs, exasperated and moves farther into the apartment. He stops dead when he sees a small suitcase and a duffel bag on the floor. “What the fuck is that?”

“Huh? Oh. I’m going to go out on the bike for a week or so. Drive around.”

“You’re what?” 

“Clear my head. Set it on straight.”

“You’re _leaving_?” Without thinking, Bucky steps toward Steve and pushes him back. “What the fuck, Rogers?”

“I’m not leaving. I’m just going out for a while. I’ll have my phone.”

Bucky shoves him again and again, not really aware of what he’s doing or where they’re going until Steve suddenly falls away from him, Bucky doesn’t think, just shoves Steve down on the bed and crawls on top of him. “We have one fucking argument and you _run_?”

“We’ve been having an argument since you came back.” Steve just stares up at Bucky with that same nowhere look in his eyes he’d had in the lab. “Get off me.”

“I thought this was what you wanted?”

Something comes back into Steve’s eyes then disappears again. “And I know you don’t.” He pushes Bucky off of him. Bucky starts to fall to the side, but the flutter of wings keeps him upright. “Go home, Bucky.”

 

Bucky stands up and nods. He digs Steve’s key out of his pocket and drops it on the bed next to him. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just staring at Steve. He used to be able to figure him out. Steve was simple -- righteous and determined and self-destructive and always fighting for what was right. “You probably want this back.”

Steve’s quiet for a long time. He sits up and too late Bucky thinks about looking at him, looking his fill. “You can just leave it by the door.”

Bucky shakes his head, leaving the key where it is. He expects his voice to be harsh and angry, but instead it seems nothing but sad. “Have a good trip.”

**

Bucky figures he probably looks like _that_ asshole when he turns his chair around before sitting at the coffee shop table with Natasha, but it’s only been a day since he’s been out of Tony’s lab and, despite working with them, he hasn’t quite figured out how to work his damn wings. 

“So.” Natasha takes a sip of her espresso. “Steve’s gone?”

“Yeah. So I hear.”

“Hear.” She smirks at him, and he remembers that he truly hates her sometimes. “I was thinking last night.”

“About me? In bed?” He smirks right back at her and she glares.

“I’d flip you off, but that would be unladylike.” She’s dressed like a businesswoman, so it definitely wouldn’t fit her current aesthetic. “As I was saying, I was thinking about your situation, and I was wondering why Hydra would want you to have wings. They seem a little impractical and, well, conspicuous for an assassin.”

“Because the black tac gear, mask, and goggles were inconspicuous.”

“I assumed that was just for the particular mission of killing a super soldier and not your usual get-up. I mean, other than that, it seems like most of your work was done in the shadows. A ghost, remember?”

“I’m pretty sure Steve was meant to be my last mission. Maybe it was a failsafe. If I didn’t return to base or whatever, after a certain period of time, I’d sprout wings and someone would shoot my ass.”

“Maybe. It’s weird.” She reaches out and pokes the wings even though they’re masked. “I wonder if you’ll molt.”

“You guys are getting way too much enjoyment out of this.” He rubs his forehead with his hand. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do with this, you know?”

“Flying sniper.”

“Being a sniper requires being very still for long periods of time. Somehow flight doesn’t really translate well to that.” He rolls his shoulders to adjust to the new weight of his wings, knocking over a chair at the next table. “Shit.”

Natasha is actually smiling. “I love this. I mean, honestly and truly.”

“You know that I’m the one person who actually could kill you in your sleep, right?”

“You didn’t kill me last time you tried.” She takes a drink of her coffee. “Do you know where he went?”

“No. Why don’t you call him?”

“Do you miss him?”

“Is there a reason we’re doing this?”

“Yes, honestly. I’m worried about him.”

Bucky sighs. “Yeah, well. He inspires that in people. But he’s a big boy, and he can take care of himself.”

“Do you actually believe that?”

“Thanks for the coffee.” Bucky stands up and turns the chair back around. “If there’s one thing in the world that Steve hates it’s someone having to take care of him. He’s never liked it, and he only put up with me doing it because I wouldn’t leave him alone. He doesn’t need it now, so I’m doing what he wanted.”

“He’s not the same person now.”

“Yeah? Well. Neither am I.”

**

Bucky still hasn’t really figured out how to fix the shirt problem, so when the doorbell rings, he answers it in a pair of sweatpants, his wings extended slightly. Sam looks at him with undisguised dislike. “Here.” He thrusts an envelope at Bucky. “Go to the coordinates then open the envelope.”

Bucky glances down at the numbers, then up at Sam. “What’s this about?”

“Just fucking do it, okay? Trust me, I wouldn’t be here if it didn’t matter.”

“To Steve.”

“Go. Don’t go. I don’t care. But maybe you owe him a little something. I don’t know what you remember. Maybe none of the shit before really matters to you. But you matter to him, so man the fuck up. He’s not even there, okay? It’s not some elaborate trap. He doesn’t want to see you, man.”

It stings, even though Bucky knows it’s true mostly because it’s his fault. “I need a bike. I can’t really ride in a car anymore.”

“Buy one then. Steal one. Figure it out your own damn self. You’re a smart guy, or so you keep saying.” Sam shakes his head. 

Bucky sighs. “I never promised him anything, Sam.”

“And he hasn’t asked you for anything, has he? You’re friends. You wanted to be friends, and he’s cool with that. No matter if he might want something else, he’s respecting _your_ wishes. Positions reversed, would you be able to do that for him?”

Sam leaves and Bucky shuts the door. He turns the envelope over and over, then rips it open. He doesn’t care if Sam told him to wait. He’s not walking into a trap -- physical or emotional.

_It’s open land. Cabin in the middle of the property. No neighbors so you can stretch your wings._

“Jesus Christ, Steve.” He sighs and calls Natasha. “I need a ride.”

**

When Bucky pulls up on the motorcycle, Natasha’s leaning against her parked car, arms crossed over her chest. “You’re really going to try this?”

“Not like Sam’s going to be giving me any pointers. Besides, you checked the place out, right?”

“Just because the property’s safe doesn’t mean you’re not going to get up in the air, plummet to the ground, and break a few dozen bones.”

“They’ll mend.”

“Fucking super soldiers. What if it’s your skull?”

“What the hell else am I going to do with them?” He knows he sounds exasperated. He _is_ exasperated. Frustrated. Angry. “Wander around town like some sort of demon hobo?”

“I think that’d make a decent movie.”

Bucky sighs and rubs his eyes. “Why do I put up with you?”

“Good looks and a charming personality.”

Bucky shakes his head. “I hate you.” They both know he doesn’t. They both know that right now she’s probably the only thing close to a friend he’s got. 

“At least I didn’t let Clint come and use you for target practice.”

Closing his eyes, Bucky blocks her out and concentrates on his wings. They unfurl and he can feel a surge of something as the wind flows against the feathers. Power. Heat. He lets it take him over, not thinking. Just feeling.

He surrenders to his instincts and he’s airborne, suspended at least twenty feet above the ground. There’s a sharp pull across his shoulders and then he flaps his wings and soars higher. When he glances down, Natasha’s ignoring him, texting on her phone. He doesn’t want to think about who she’s communicating with, so he flaps his wings again and moves forward.

The wings are practically invisible in the dark. There’s no moon in the sky, so only the gray tips show by starlight. Bucky circles the property, following the fence line, trying to get a feel for the weight of the wings, the stamina. He completes the loop then changes course, bisecting the property. There’s a break between the trees and, with some maneuvering, Bucky manages to land in the circle that surrounds a cabin.

It’s not very big, but it has a porch that spans the front of the hyouse. There’s a rough-hewn wooden chair near the door that opens easily when Bucky tries the handle. He remembers to pull his wings in before he steps in the door, feeling them settle against him as he flips on the light switch and the room turns golden. 

Bucky stops dead.

This room is Steve.

There are huge windows that no doubt let in amazing light. There are sketches and paintings on the walls. Next to the fireplace there’s a stack of old quilts in a basket. There are books everywhere, and a gorgeous mahogany table that gleams like polished sunlight. 

Bucky runs his fingers along the surface as he moves farther inside, flipping another switch to light up the hallway. There’s a half-bath on the way to two other doors.. He opens one and turns the lights on. The room is bare except for a bed frame and a pre-fab desk and dresser that look completely out of place.

The second room makes something ache inside him. He can picture Steve here, living almost as simply as they had back in Brooklyn. The furniture is thick wood and obviously handmade. Bucky looks the whole room over, his gaze stopping at the dresser. There’s a picture frame lying face down, and Bucky realizes it’s the only one he’s seen.

He walks over, wings brushing over the comforter as he moves past the bed. When he turns the frame over, the memory hits him hard.

Steve standing at the counter of the general store, his dime clutched tight in his hand. Mr. Cooper had held the frame behind the counter just for Steve for his mom’s birthday. Steve had worked jobs for everyone he could just to save the money. 

Steve holding the box the frame was in, all nestled safe in tissue paper, with both hands. Them walking outside and Bucky stopping to talk to one of the girls he’d taken dancing a couple of days before. Leaning against the wall to get closer to her, conversation barely started when there was a crash of glass.

It was over before Bucky could get there. As far as he could tell, Steve hadn’t even put up a fight. He was on his knees on the ground, a cut across his hand from the glass where he was clutching the frame. Steve hadn’t said who’d done it. Hadn’t said a word.

Bucky shakes his head hard and looks at the frame. There’s no glass in it, and there’s no photograph. Bucky traces the outline of where the picture should be. 

“Damn it, Rogers.”

He doesn’t go straight back to Natasha. There’s too much anger burning under his skin. Anger at Steve. At himself. At Hydra. When he finally lands beside her, his whole body aches from the exertion and the emotion, and he sinks to his knees.

“Got a message from Tony.”

“Yeah?” Bucky leans forward until his head is almost touching the ground, hair shielding his face. “He think up some new insults?”

“He got some files from Steve. No idea where Steve got them, but there’s information about the wings.”

“Steve’s back at the tower?”

Natasha waits until he actually looks at her to shake her head. “No one knows where Steve is. He disabled all of Tony’s trackers. The files came through Coulson who is never going to be disloyal to Steve. Ever. And Steve’s not answering his phone.”

“Did you have Sam call him?”

“No. Because I’m new at this.”

Bucky blows out a breath. “What did Coulson say?” Bucky’s used to the feeling of dread crawling up his spine. He’s had it ever since he met Steve.

“Package came to him by a courier service that Steve apparently either paid off or vetted the hell out of, because even being arrested in the name of national security didn’t get anything out of them. Cameras don’t have any record of Steve being nearby.”

“Shit.”

“Dr. Cho wants you back at the tower.”

“And Tony wants me to rot in hell.”

“Well, he’ll be there. That’s sort of the same thing.”

**

He can’t seem to make the bike go fast enough, even with the wind whipping through his wings. Natasha passes him and he revs the throttle, speeding past her until it feels like he’s flying again.

The tower doors don’t open until Natasha shows up. Bucky follows her in, and Tony’s voice comes out of a loudspeaker. “You go nowhere without a babysitter, Barnes.”

“Send Dr. Cho to me instead and you’ll never see me again.”

“He breathes wrong, FRIDAY, kill him.”

FRIDAY doesn’t answer. Bucky follows Natasha to the elevator, both of them silent on the way up. Finally Natasha speaks. “FRIDAY, any news on Cap?”

“Negative, Agent Romanoff.”

“I assume Tony has you checking hospitals and clinics.”

“I would never attempt to violate laws regarding medical records, of course, but no one of the Captain’s description or vitals has been seen.”

“Well, unless he plunged his bike into an iceberg, he can’t be that hard to find.” Tony sounds a little too pleased at the thought. “He kind of stands out.” 

Bucky feels like he’s going to snap, his wings trembling. Annoyed, he pulls his phone out and dials Steve’s number. It rings and rings, and there’s no answer by the time they get to the medical wing.

Dr. Cho is waiting for them, though her attention is on one of Tony’s holograms. The X-ray of Bucky’s spine and the bones of his wings hover in mid-air in front of her. Bucky looks at it, marveling at the structure of the bones. It makes no sense that they should support his weight given the hollowness, the nothingness at the center of them. 

Natasha leans against the wall. “What’s up, Doc?”

“Good. You’re here. Dr. Anderson did some digging into the files Captain Rogers sent. It’s given us some insight into your problem.”

“Insight’s kind of a dirty word around us,” Natasha drawls. “But go on.”

“Do you know what that half-frozen idiot did?” Tony slams into the room and storms right up to them.

Natasha lifts one perfectly groomed eyebrow. “I assume you’re talking about Steve?”

“He raided the site in Georgia. The top-secret one he wasn’t supposed to know about until we had better intel? Because we knew if he knew he’d fucking barge in like a raging bull and fuck everything up. Yeah. That one.”

“Raided?”

Tony turns his glare on Bucky. “This is your goddamned fault. He’s going to get himself arrested for defying the accords or get himself killed because of you.”

“And since when do you care about him?”

Tony snaps his mouth shut, but he’s clearly still furious.

Natasha ignores them both and looks at Dr. Cho. “And what did Dr. Anderson find?”

“As you suspected, Mr. Barnes, the information indicates that Captain Rogers was to be your last mission. After that, if you survived, whatever substance the Wakandan doctors identified would, after a period of time, release and spread into your spinal fluid and bone marrow, triggering, apparently, this. I assume the release was delayed by you returning to the cryogenic chamber. But once you were revived, your countdown started again. They intended to retire the assassin and make you an experiment.”

“I’ve always been an experiment.”

“Perhaps guinea pig is a better description.” Dr. Cho points to the hologram, changing the contrast so they can see the thick, black ropes of something wrapped around Bucky’s spine, wound around it like a helix. “I think this was their next step. An assassin with much the same abilities as Mr. Wilson.”

“So what can I do?”

Tony doesn’t even look away from his phone. “I have a few ideas.”

Dr. Cho clears her throat. “I’d like to take a biopsy of the material, find out what we’re dealing with exactly.”

“No.”

“If you’re willing.”

Bucky glances at Natasha and then at Tony. The air feels as icy as cryo and even is bones feel brittle. He sighs and shrugs, wings fluttering. “Fuck. Why not?” He unhooks the shirt he’s modified around the wings. Dr. Cho leads him into one of the exam rooms. Natasha follows them to the door, but she stops outside of it when Tony grabs her arm. 

“Who gave Steve that intel?”

“He’s not communicating with any of us, Tony.”

“We just found out it was a medical facility a couple of days ago. Someone told him something.”

Bucky waves off Dr. Cho’s offer of anesthesia, listening to the conversation instead. Natasha raises an eyebrow and he knows she noticed, but she doesn’t address it. “What was the end result?”

“Thirty dead. Twelve incapacitated. The drive he sent back had a lot information on it, and he managed a secure uplink to Coulson.”

“But?”

“He went in alone. Without his shield. Against the Accords. And he’s a stubborn son-of-a-bitch. And we have no way of knowing if he’s hurt or even fucking alive because he’s got a stick up his ass instead of his brainwashed boyfriend’s dick.”

“Tony…”

“No. You can’t tell me you’re not worried about some heartbroken, over-eager Boy Scout with a vengeance out in the wild?”

“You should show him some goddamn respect.” Bucky growls. “Steve is a brilliant strategist, an amazing tactician, and a decent human being. Which is more than anyone can say about you.”

Dr. Cho sets a gloved hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Mr. Barnes.”

“Because anyone should trust _your_ opinions?” Tony snarls. “You’re one bad idea after a-fucking-nother. Why don’t you go and find a family to murder. Clint’s still got a wife and kids if you want to keep it in the Avengers.

“Tony!” Natasha’s voice cracks like a whip.

Bucky’s teeth feel like they’re going to break with how hard he’s clenching them. The plates of his arm are locked and it feels like the slightest twist would snap them apart. He’s angry enough that he barely feels the scalpel cut into his skin.

“As soon as she’s done, I want him out of here. And make sure whoever talks to Rogers tells him the closest he’s ever getting to Captain America again is if he buys a fucking action figure.”

The room is practically vibrating with tension when Tony leaves. Bucky closes his eyes and rests his head on his arms. Natasha settles a hand lightly on his leg. “He’s okay.”

“I don’t think Steve’s been okay in a long time.”

**

It’s over a month later when Bucky gets a text from Clint. It makes no sense, which is pretty much par for the course, but something about it sticks in Bucky’s mind. He’s at Steve’s property practicing maneuvers in the dark when it hits him.

_take to the rooftops_

“Shit.” Bucky stumbles a landing, then takes off again, going higher than normal to reorient himself and find his bike. He doesn’t get pulled over on the way back to the city, and he’s not sure he’d stop, even if he had been.

He parks the bike in an alley and takes advantage of his wings to get to the roof with the best view of Steve’s apartment.

The lights are on and relief washes over Bucky. Steve’s bedroom is empty, so Bucky works his way over until he can see the rest of the apartment, until he can see Steve. It hits him at that moment how much he’s goddamned missed him. How the low, burning ache that’s been in his chest has been the absence of Steve in his life.

Steve’s lying on his couch and, even with the distance, Bucky can read the exhaustion in every line of his body. Bucky swallows and licks his lips. His brain is spinning as he thinks about going to Steve’s door. What he could say, will say, when he gets there. Assuming Steve would even talk to him.

But before he can move, Steve lifts his head. Bucky looks in the same direction, following Steve’s gaze. He expects to see Sam. Natasha. Maybe Clint.

He doesn’t know who the woman is, but she’s not Natasha. She’s laughing and Steve is smiling as he sits up, though the exhaustion on his face doesn't fade. She settles next to him, leaning in, letting him wrap his arm around her. She looks up at him, and Steve meets her gaze for a long second before closing his eyes and kissing her.

The brick crumbles under Bucky’s grip, chunks of it falling into the alley below. Swallowing hard, he brushes his hand off on his jeans before pulling out his phone and texting Natasha.

_who is she?_

_don’t know. hasn’t left so i can’t break in_

_hasn’t left at all? he went on a drive that was a mission and came back with a girlfriend?_

_not sure if she wasn’t around before that. but aren’t you happy for him?_

_maybe after I know more._

_given Tony’s mandates, not sure Steve plans on letting any of us know more. Tony got a delivery of Steve’s suits and an action figure._

_Tony’s a dick._

_I’m sure Steve’s okay._

_pretty sure I fucked this up._

He looks up, and Steve’s standing at the window. Bucky’s sure he’s hidden well enough that Steve can’t see him, but it feels like Steve’s _looking_ at him nevertheless.

And then Steve closes the curtains.

**

“Mr. Barnes? It’s Dr. Cho.”

“Doctor.” Bucky’s perched on a stool, his wings stretched out from wall to wall. He’s only half-listening, busy turning the envelope in his hands over and over. His name and address are written in Steve’s neat handwriting, but Bucky hasn’t managed to open it yet.

“I’ve received the biopsy results back. I took the liberty of doing some additional tests on the sample as well.”

“Great. What’d you find out?”

“Not much until we viewed it in light of your serum.”

“Let me guess, I’m a super soldier.” He rips open the envelope and pulls out a piece of paper. When he unfolds it, a key falls out, clanging on the floor.

“The substance, which we still can’t identify, is combining with the serum, creating what is essentially a web of tumors along your spinal column, pelvis, and scapulae as support for the wings, which are likely a manifestation of the substance itself. The tumors are benign. I don’t think the serum would allow anything malignant to grow.”

Bucky opens the paper to more of Steve’s writing. _Please lock up the place for the winter when you’re done using it._

“Mr. Barnes?”

“I’m here. So what does all of that mean?” He picks up the key in his metal hand. It would barely take any pressure to snap it in half.

“If you wanted them removed, it would take extensive and incredibly invasive surgery. I’m not sure it’s something I’d want to undertake, even in light of the serum.”

“Which is a long-winded way of saying I’m stuck like this.”

“I’m afraid so. I’m sorry.”

“Unless you’re Hydra, you’ve got nothing to be sorry about. Thanks for all you’ve done, Doc.” He rubs his thumb over the pattern of the key. He wants to switch it to his right hand so he can dig it into his flesh.

“I’d like to see you again in three months. Just to check you against the baseline.”

“Not sure your boss will agree to that.”

“Let me worry about Tony.”

“Trust me, I’ve got no intention of even thinking about the asshole; I can promise you I’m not going to fucking worry about him.” He exhales and turns over the note Steve had sent and grabs a pen. “Have your people call my people.”

He hangs up the phone and stares at the paper for a long time. He wants to send it back with a very straight-up fuck you. Instead he throws the pen across the room and embeds it into the wall. Crumpling up the note, he tosses the key on the counter and walks away.

One of the nice things about the second rate serum Zola gave him -- besides not giving him a fucking red skull and pull-off face -- is that, if he drinks enough, he can get drunk for at least a couple of hours.

Hopefully that’ll be long enough.

**

_she’s not living there._

_who is she?_

_still doing recon_

_jesus how can one woman be so damned difficult to find info on?_

_one question?_

_no_

_why do you care so much?_

_because he’s a trusting idiot._

_you’d be surprised. he’s changed a lot more than you think he has_

Bucky doesn’t throw the phone or crush it, which is an improvement over what he’d done to the Stark phone. At least with that one he’d had a legitimate reason. 

He takes his bike up to Steve’s cabin. He’s tempted to fly, but he knows better in full daylight. He goes inside and perches on the edge of the chair so he can still spread his wings somewhat. 

“All right, Barnes. Think.”

He doesn’t care if Steve has a girl. He’d been fine with Carter. Both Carters. Of course, Peggy was Peggy, and Steve had zero chemistry with Sharon. He’s just concerned. Because Steve trusts people, and people take advantage of that. Even if he’s changed like Romanoff says, Steve is clueless when it comes to women. Clueless and fumbling.

Except he hadn’t fumbled with the woman on the couch. He’d closed the windows for privacy. Drew the blinds in the bedroom.

Fuck.

He pulls his phone out and texts Steve. _got the key. heard through the grapevine you told Tony to fuck off._ He doesn’t get a response, and he wonders what a retired super soldier does with his time. _thanks for the hydra info. at least I know why I’m even more of a freak than before._

He expects a response to that. One of Steve’s emphatic denials that Bucky isn’t a freak. Four hours later and he still hasn’t gotten a response. There’s something sour and spoiled in Bucky’s stomach. He’s not sure he knows what to do if Steve doesn’t believe in him.

_where are you?_

He jumps at the chime of Natasha’s text. He looks down quickly, heart pumping until he realizes it isn’t Steve.

_cabin. why?_

_situation_

_avengers assemble?_ He wonders if his sarcasm comes through, but it’s Natasha, so he knows she’ll hear it regardless.

_it’s Steve._

_where?_

_his apartment_

Bucky races back as fast as he had last time, and he’s right. He doesn’t stop for the cop. He turns off the masking tech and spreads his wings, black feathers in his peripheral vision. He doesn’t know if he outruns the siren or if the sight just stops the cop altogether.

He remembers to cloak his wings before he hits the city, and he draws them in tight when he enters Steve's building. Taking the stairs three at a time, he slams into the wall outside Steve’s place before sliding in through the open door.

The normally impeccable place is trashed. Furniture is wrecked, broken into pieces. There’s a Steve-shaped indent in the wall with shelves shattered on the floor beneath it. More concerning is the large, thick spray of blood on the wall and the floor, the bullet one of the agents with Natasha is pulling out of the wall.

“Neck.” His voice is tight, his throat strangled. Natasha nods, but Bucky doesn’t give her time to say anything. “His height. She’s part of it. Find her.”

“Analyze the bullet,” Natasha says. “I want to know if there’s something on it, poison or anything that might affect him.” The agent nods and drops the bullet from the tweezers into a biohazard bag. Natasha doesn’t look at Bucky. “We may need Tony for this.”

“Tony doesn’t give a shit about Steve, but do what you have to. I want all the info on this girl.”

“Agent Romanoff?” One of the techs comes out of the kitchen holding a mug. “We’ve got fingerprints that aren’t Captain Rogers’s, and there’s a powdery residue in the cup.”

“Get it to the lab.” Bucky snaps and Natasha nods. The tech bags the mug and hands it off to someone collecting all the samples.

Natasha looks at Bucky. “Getting frustrated with them isn’t going to help. Plus it makes your wings freak out.”

Bucky looks over his shoulder, and his wings are still folded, but they’re raised high and practically vibrating. “I want him found.”

“We all do.”

“If Hydra has him…”

“We’ll get him back, James. It’s Steve.”

Bucky growls low in his throat. “I need him found. I need to find her and I’m going to get his location out of her if I have to choke her to get it.”

“Let’s get the lab results.”

“He was shot in the _neck_ , Natasha. That’s something that can _kill_ him.”

“They wouldn’t have taken him if he was dead. And there’s not enough blood.”

“There’s too much blood. And for all we know this is a trap.” He grits his teeth and looks at the blood spray again. “If he’s dead, _they’re dead_. Every single goddamned one of them.”

**

Natasha gets off the phone, her expression pinched. She sits at the table and rakes a hand through her hair.

Bucky stops packing, wings still shaking. “What?”

“They don’t know what the residue is. They’re still trying to analyze it. FRIDAY’s trying to break it down.”

“Fuck. What do we have on the fingerprints?”

She sighs. “There’s nothing in the system.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. He’s Captain fucking America. How can he be this hard to find?”

She shakes her head. “I’ll call Tony, make sure we get access to all the street cameras. Tony probably has it lined up already and is just waiting for us to call.

“Of course he is. He can’t just do something. He has to be asked for it.” Bucky tenses and then his shoulders sag as he looks over at the spray of Steve’s blood. “Fine. Just keep him away from me. And make sure he keeps his goddamned mouth shut.”

“I might be able to manage that one, but I’m not a miracle worker.”

Bucky doesn’t smile. “We’re wasting time.”

Natasha calls Tony and Bucky listens with half an ear. He can hear the tone of Tony’s responses, but not the words, so he just clenches his fists and tries not to focus on the blood. His arm recalibrates and Natasha looks at him as she hangs up. “He can get the cameras, but the feeds can only go to the tower.”

“Then let’s go.”

“Not you.”

Bucky draws himself up to his full height and his wings snap. “What?”

“He doesn’t want you there.”

“This is about _Steve_. Did you tell him to fuck what he wants?”

“This _is_ about Steve. And we need his help, James.”

Bucky snarls, his black wings spreading ominously in the small room. “Let me know the _second_ he finds something. If his petty shit causes something to happen to Steve, he’ll be just as dead as whoever took him.”

“I’m not going to let him do anything that might hurt Steve.” She stands up, reaching out and resting her hand on his flesh forearm. “We’ll find him. I swear.”

“But what shape will he be in?”

**

Night falls. Bucky’s on Steve’s rooftop, his wings spread under Tony’s cloaking tech. He hasn’t gotten much from Natasha, certainly nothing he can do anything with. His jaw aches from clenching it, but he can’t make himself relax. Sam’s downstairs with the techs and the clean-up crew. Bucky left even before Sam got there because all he could smell was blood. Fuck, he was tired of the smell of Steve’s blood.

His phone lights up with a text from Natasha. He’s about to leave for the tower when Sam opens the door to the roof. “Don’t have my wings. You’re faster. Can you carry me? Without dropping me?”

“Caveats, huh?” He nods, already walking over to Sam. No matter how he and Sam feel about each other, Steve means a hell of a lot to both of them. “I haven’t yet, but I’m willing to try it if you are.”

“Guess if you fuck up, I won’t care for long, huh?”

“Pretty sure Steve would kick my ass if I dropped you. So, come on. We’re wasting time.”

He lets his wings give him lift then wraps his arms under Sam’s from behind. His shoulders feel the sudden strain of Sam’s weight and he adjusts his grip, gaining altitude. He changes the angle of his body to speed up.

They’re across the city in just a few minutes, but it seems like hours. He brings them down on their feet on the rooftop where Natasha’s waiting, dressed in her Black Widow outfit.

“Suit up, Sam. Go ahead to the armory, James.”

“You gonna tell us what’s going on?” Sam asks.

“Walk and talk.” She takes off at a brisk pace and they follow just as quickly. “Tony tracked him through the cameras out of the city. Nothing since then, but we have a good idea where they took him.”

“Where’s that?” Sam asks as they get to the ready room. Bucky adds three ammo packs, four knives, and two guns to what he’s already carrying while Sam gets his suit and wings on.

“Here.” She hands Bucky a tac vest that has holes cut in it, velcro attaching above them. He raises an eyebrow. “Stark’s a dick, but he’s always prepared.”

With the vest on, Bucky adds more ammo to his stash. Sam pulls out a few additional guns and stores them. “Where are we going?”

“Canada. Hope you brought passports,” Tony says as he walks in already in the Iron Man suit.

“Canada?”

Tony holds out a box, offering them each comms. It’s the first time Bucky’s seen him in the suit since Siberia. Tony jiggles the box. “You too, Bladerunner. Natasha thinks we’re going to need you.”

Bucky takes the comm link and fits it in his ear. Natasha comes over to him. “Give me a ride?”

“If you knew how many people wanted to hear you say that to them…” Tony’s voice was just as annoying right in Bucky’s ear. “Well. You’d have more people to kill.”

Bucky can only imagine the look Natasha gives Stark. “I do know how many. And a few of them are already dead because of it. Now, let’s go.”

Tony leads them out onto a small launch pad off the room. Bucky grabs Natasha and is airborne before the other two. “Now, tell me what’s going on.” It’s not a request so much as a demand.

“The car’s registered to a Dubheasa O-H-e-a-l-a-i-g-h, which FRIDAY says is just Healy if you’re not Gaelic. Which I’m not sure anyone around here is.”

“And?”

“And her dad is Garrett Healy.”

Bucky huffs an irritated breath. “You’re taking lessons from Tony. _And_?”

“Garrett Healy used to work for an organization called Mosaic.”

“Can we skip the history? What are we flying in to?”

“Biochemical weapons. Stuff that makes Anthrax seem like baby powder. They got taken apart by the government when they killed a bunch of veterans in a voluntary experiment.”

“Voluntary?” Sam’s sarcasm is as sharp as a knife.

“Exactly. The government took possession of everything in the facility, but Healy knew the raid was coming, so there’s no chance they got all of it.”

“So why Steve?”

Tony cuts in. “Imagine you could combine a biochemical weapon with the serum. Make a super soldier version of your weapon.”

“They shot him. They got his blood. Why do they need him.”

“They probably wanted more. If it were me -- and it’s not, murderbot, so stand down -- given how Steve’s body recovers, I’d practically exsanguinate him, take all that I can, and then give him a few days to generate more. Unlimited supply. But if they’d stayed close, they probably knew there was a good chance we’d find them. Fast.”

Bucky feels like he’s pulling teeth to get the information, to get to Steve. “So why Canada?”

“Garrett Healy disappeared in the fallout of the government takeover. Rumor was he went off grid. I didn’t have any reason to look for him until now when his precious little girl started bumpin’ uglies with the good Mr. Rogers.”

“So, you took twenty fucking minutes to tell me she’s taking him to her mad scientist dad.”

“Succinctly put.”

Tony ignores Natasha. “Yeah. I’d say it was so Rogers could ask him for her hand in marriage, but blood spray lends itself more to a shotgun wedding gone wrong.”

“Do we have any idea what he’s likely to have, weapon-wise? Any idea what the government couldn't find?” Natasha’s voice cuts in, ending Stark’s remarks.

“FRIDAY’s searching the government files. Despite popular belief, I don’t know everything.”

“The only person who thinks you do is you,” Sam mutters.

Bucky growls under his breath. “Do we have _any_ sort of plan?”

“Tony and Sam are going to scout ahead, get the layout. You and I will go by ground. We’ll get you in a defensive position. Clint’s not here, so we need a sniper.”

“We need you to not go off half-cocked.”

Bucky can hear Tony’s smirk. “As opposed to being a total dick like you, Stark?”

“Stop it.” It sounds like Sam’s shouting through the comms. “Can you two stop your pissing contest and fucking focus on Steve? I don’t give a shit how you guys feel about each other or him, but I’d like to get there before they do anything worse than a neck shot to him.”

They all go quiet other than Natasha’s vocalized agreement. After what seems like forever, FRIDAY’s voice breaks the silence. “You’re about fifty miles out, boss. Sending you the specs of the compound. They’re old and likely outdated, but I can’t find anything more recent. If he’s added to it, you’re blind to that part.”

“Okay.” Tony’s voice is actually serious. “Ten miles out we stop to look over the specs. I already have one super soldier who likes a good suicide mission, I don’t need a knock-off.”

Bucky’s about to say something, but Natasha shakes her head. Tony heads down for a landing just a few minutes later and the rest of them join him on the ground. He pulls up the building specs and Bucky curses under his breath.

“Care to share with the class?” Sam asks, his voice sounding like he’s at the end of his patience.

“There’s more to the compound. This is an old stronghold. There are two sub-basements and a very deep hole beneath those. Walls are concrete over steel. They put you in there when they don’t want you getting out.”

“Do I want to know why you know this?”

Bucky looks at Sam. “Probably not.”

“That’s where they held Baliskov?” Natasha asks quietly. Bucky gives her a look and she nods. Baliskov isn’t someone Bucky likes to think of, especially if Steve’s in the same hole he was. 

“Cut the cloak and dagger, Boris and Natasha. Shit.” Tony huffs. “That’s not funny when you’re actually named Natasha. Anyway. Where are we going to find the lab?”

“The top three floors are just a house, so they’ll want it as far away as possible. Second sub-basement.”

“Don’t think anything that size is called a house.” Sam shakes his head. “So how do we get in and get to Steve?”

“And what chemical weapons are they using to keep him from getting out of that hole?”

Bucky closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Opening them, he jabs at Tony’s display. “Sam, you and Stark infiltrate here and here There should be an entrance to the actual basement. I’m sure they’ve upgraded security in the last twenty years, so I can’t help beyond that. Nat, you take that entrance and take out Healy and his goons. I’ll secure the lab and get Steve.”

“No.”

Bucky looks at Tony. “Excuse me?”

“My suit is sealed and has its own oxygen supply. Natasha and I take out any goons in the basement, then I’ll secure the lab. You and Sam play avenging angels and clear the house. Don’t worry. We’ll let you be Steve’s hero.”

“Tony’s got a jet following behind us, so we’ll call them into the airspace once we secure the lab. Then we get Steve medical attention. He doesn’t need a hero.” Natasha’s voice makes it clear no one should even think of arguing with her. “Tony’s right about the rest. You two go. He’ll get me the rest of the way.”

There’s no universe in which Bucky wants to agree with Stark except, he knows, one where Steve's in danger. “Fine. Let’s stop wasting time.”

“You know he’s right,” Sam says softly. “Metal wings. Pitch black wings. Avenging angels isn’t too far off.”

“Nothing I plan to do is angelic.” Bucky lands on the roof without a sound.

“Remember,” Sam reminds him with a laugh as he disappears into the dark. “You kill anyone, Steve’ll make his disappointed face.”

“No he won’t. Besides, Steve picked a mad scientist’s daughter as his first girlfriend this century. He doesn’t get a say.”

**

Despite what he says, he doesn’t kill the girl when he finds her on the top floor. He doesn’t believe in innocent until proven guilty, but he knows Steve does. It doesn’t mean Bucky’s gentle with her when he gags her, zip ties her hands and feet, and threatens her life enough that she pisses herself. He very carefully doesn’t think of her kissing Steve, fucking him, using him, otherwise he will see if the blood in her throat sprays like Steve’s.

Fuck.

He isn’t as nice with the two henchmen he finds at the base of the stairs. He breaks both of their necks before they make a sound. He sees Sam at the other end of the hall, watching as he punches one of the guys in the face, drops him, and leaves him to choke on his own blood.

“Who’s getting the disappointed face now?”

Sam flips him off. Bucky smirks as Natasha’s voice comes through the comms.

“We’re in the main basement. It’s a mess down here, but Tony’s got FRIDAY on the code to the door for the next level. Not too many hostiles on this floor.”

“We’ve got the top two levels cleared here. Heading down to the main floor.”

“Redwing’s scanning from outside,” Sam looks at his wrist. “Looks like fifteen people on the main floor, at least ten armed.”

“Guess you do know how to show a fellow a good time, Wilson.”

“Shut it, Barnes.”

Bucky smiles, but it twists his face like a smirk when he looks down to the main floor. “Still interested in that avenging angels thing?”

“Ha!” Tony interrupts. “I just got that. I’m funnier than I thought.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and gets onto the railing. Sam looks at Redwing’s display and then nods. Bucky drops silently, unmasked wings spread around him as he lands with a loud thud of his boots. Heads whip around and Bucky shoots one of the guys in the head before spinning and ducking, taking the guy behind him out with his wings before he bends down and slices one of his knives across the femoral artery.

Sam comes down firing, maneuvering as well as he can in the close quarters before he hits the ground. One of the gunmen gets caught by the sharp metal as Sam retracts his wings. A quick shot from Bucky’s gun cuts off his scream. Bucky shoots another in the knee with his other pistol and Sam takes two out easily.

Bucky strides to the closed double doors at the other end of the room, shoots the guy again, this time in his other knee. Sam raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t that overkill?”

Bucky shrugs. “For that, I’d have to kill him.”

**

It takes Bucky’s arm to break through the doors and the things the remaining guards have used to barricade it. As soon as they get inside, bullets ping off Bucky’s metal arm. He can hear the sounds of Tony’s repulsors in the distance, but Bucky can’t hear _him_ , so he’s probably dealing with FRIDAY because there’s no other way Tony would be quiet.

A bullet whizzes through the fragile web of his feathers. Nothing hurts, all he feels is the same sensation he gets when his flesh starts to knit back together. It still pisses him off though, so he dodges bullets as he runs forward and grabs the guy by the throat with his right hand, lifts him up, and throws him into a wall.

More assholes in black come filing in and he hears Sam switch guns. “Do you have eyes on Healy?” Bucky asks.

“Nothing,” Sam replies, taking two more guys down.

“Shit!” Tony blurts out. “Widow, call the jet. Tell them we need a hazmat team in here. Now. I want you out of here. All of you. The basement. The house.”

“Have you found Steve?”

“I’m fucking _looking_.”

Bucky hears Natasha’s rough exhale at Tony's sharp words, but then she’s calling the jet. Bucky can tell by the cadence of her voice that she’s running.

Whatever’s causing the fear in Tony’s voice fuels Bucky’s anger and worry. It seems to do the same for Sam, and they take down the rest of Healy’s men with deadly precision. As much as he hates to admit it, he and Sam make a good team.

The shooting stops and Bucky and Sam nod to each other, splitting up to look for Healy and anyone else that might be left. There are plenty of places to hide, but Bucky’s hunting now, predator after prey.

He moves silently, walking slowly, ready to kill at a single twitch from Healy. He sweeps room to room, scouring them with his eyes for hiding spots, for anything out of place.

“The rumors are true, I see.”

Healy’s voice has the same lilt that Steve’s mother’s did, and it makes Bucky even angrier. He turns slowly, guns drawn and ready to fire. “And what rumors are those?” Healy’s got a dead man’s switch in his hand. Goddamned grandstanding fucking villains.

“Hydra poisoned you. Left so many fail safes and surprises in your system. No practical use, but when this happened, it meant you weren’t either.”

“What do you know about it?”

“Only what I’ve read. The research is in the lab.” He waves the switch. “As is the bomb. And your friend. Assuming the serum was able to replace the blood quickly enough. We kept having to nick the jugular. Too much and he bled too fast, too little and it kept closing.”

“I’m going to kill you by inches.”

“Don’t worry, Sergeant Barnes. With some of the other fluids we procured, we’ll make a substitute. Either in the lab or I’m sure there are plenty of women who would happily carry Captain America’s child.”

“Don’t kill him.” Tony’s voice is loud in his ear. “Not yet.”

Bucky’s voice is flat, his anger burning too hot. “Give me one good reason.”

Healy grins wider. “My daughter was happy to be the very first test subject. Though for her… Well, no lab was required. Captain Rogers was very happy to help with that experiment. However unwittingly.”

“You’d better hurry with that fucking reason, Stark.”

Healy’s hand snaps back as an arrow goes through his wrist, tearing tendons. Bucky leaps forward for the switch and grabs it before it can trigger the detonation. He yanks Clint’s arrow free and kneels on the punctured flesh of Healy’s wrist and grins as Healy keens in pain.

Pulling out one of his knives, Bucky presses it to Healy’s throat. “Got that reason yet, Stark?”

“I need help with Steve.”

**

Bucky surrenders the switch to Sam and bolts for the basement. Natasha meets him at the door with a tank of oxygen in a sling and a mask. “It’s bad down there.”

Bucky moves past her and through the door, getting the oxygen set as he goes. The main basement is filled with smoke billowing through an open door leading down. He keeps moving, going through it, eyes burning. Tears streak his face as he pushes deeper, his eyes watering in an attempt to clear the acrid fumes that sear the soft tissue of his eyes. There’s a pair of safety glasses on a table, and he puts them on in an effort to help. It makes it somewhat better.

He takes the last staircase down. He can barely make Tony’s red suit out through the thick smoke. Tony apparently knows Bucky’s there though, gesturing for him to come closer. “Help me with this thing. I can’t blast it off if he’s in there.”

Bucky grabs one corner of the huge metal slab and lifts until Tony can get his hand and the power of the suit beneath it. The hook and crane that must have been used to place it are nowhere in sight. Tony shoves the metal to the side and it lands with a deafening sound.

“There was a failsafe in the lab. Released the gas.”

“I need light.”

Tony immediately illuminates the inside of the concrete cage. Steve is naked, paler than Bucky’s ever seen him, even before the war. There’s an iron grid across the top of the hole, tubes woven around the bars, dripping thick green liquid that sizzles and burns Steve’s flesh when it hits him.

“Get him out of there, Stark!”

Tony’s moving before Bucky speaks, ripping the grid from its moorings and tossing it away. He lowers himself down carefully, settling next to Steve and picking him up. The suit -- Tony -- gathers Steve up in his arms and flies out of the hole. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

**

Maria Hill meets them on the quinjet. Both Healy, his daughter, and any of the guards still living are secured at the feet of several armed agents. Bucky’s not sure if they’re SHIELD or Stark or whatever, but they have their guns trained where they belong, and that’s all he cares about. He brushes past them, carrying Steve to the medical area of the jet and laying Steve out on a table for Dr. Cho.

The sound of people talking -- research, containment, international incident -- is nothing more than white noise to Bucky. The only thing he can focus on is Steve’s weak, shallow breaths. The acid burns are still etched into his skin, not healing over like they should. He glances at Dr. Cho but doesn’t ask. 

She’s hooked up one of the recovered bags of Steve’s blood that Healy had taken, setting him up for infusion. 

He’s so fucking pale.

“James.” Natasha’s hand settles on his back between his wings. “They need space to work. They’ll take good care of him.”

“If I go out there, I’m going to kill them.”

“Fly back. You and Sam. By the time you’re back at the tower he’ll be set up in medical and ready to see you.”

“We need Cho to do blood work on the girl. See if he’s right. See if she’s pregnant.”

The entire jet goes silent. Bucky nails the girl with a look as Natasha nods. “We will. Go. We’ll see you back at the tower.”

Bucky marches to the rear of the plane and down the ramp. Sam’s ready to fly with him, no doubt having heard Natasha’s mandate through the comms. Bucky lifts off and pushes his wings out, letting the hard flap of them pull him higher and faster.

**

The quinjet beats him there like Natasha said, and Steve has already been offloaded. One of the medical staff is carrying two empty blood bags, following Tony’s directions, to the small vaporizer that they use to destroy any remnants of his or Steve’s blood.

Bucky heads straight for the room they’ve got Steve in, but instead of one of the normal ones, they’ve got him quarantined. “What’s going on?”

Natasha comes up beside him. “It’s for his sake, not ours. Over-oxygenated air. Lungs gave out on the way here, and he went into cardiac arrest.”

Logically Bucky knows it’s a damn good thing he wasn’t on the plane when that happened, but he whips around and faces Natasha, filled with fury. “What?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, heading for the plastic sheeting that closes off the antechamber to Steve’s room.

Tony grips his arm, curling the suit gauntlet around it. “You were exposed to the gas. Decontaminate, change clothes before you go in. We’re not taking any chances.”

Bucky wants to argue even though he knows Tony’s right. None of them understand that all he can see is Steve before. See him so close to dying so many times. Knowing that without Steve in his life, Bucky Barnes ceases to exist, no matter what the decade. He nods his head jerkily and lets one of the medical staff lead him to the decontamination unit, leaving his tac gear behind and changing into a set of scrubs.

He heads straight for Steve afterward, growling when Dr. Cho grabs him before he can get there. “ _What_?”

“About the test you had me do.”

Bucky almost shakes her off until he realizes what she’s talking about. She nods toward the office, and he follows. His stomach twists because he knows the answer. Knows it’s a yes. He imagines everyone who heard him on the jet or through the comms knows the answer is yes. He shuts the door behind him anyway, exhaling shakily as he leans against it. “She is.”

“Her hCG levels are elevated.”

“She is.”

Dr. Cho nods.

“How?” She raise an eyebrow and Bucky glares at her. “You know what I mean.”

“Not exactly, but I have to assume it was done in the traditional manner.”

Bucky rubs his forehead with his left hand, letting the metal dig in slightly. “We need to get rid of it.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Get rid of it.”

“Sergeant Barnes, this is none of your business, nor is it your decision. I’m out of line even giving you this information. This is _her_ choice to make.” She raises her eyebrows at him and crosses her arms over her chest. “And there is a strong possibility that Captain Rogers _wants_ this.”

“He doesn’t.”

“Unless he’s told you so himself, and unless he tells _me_ so, I’m afraid what you say has absolutely no bearing on this. And, even if he doesn’t want it, it’s not his choice. As for the conception, I’m sure Captain Rogers is quite cognizant of birth control. The serum shouldn’t affect the power or force behind his sperm and, even if it did, I’m certainly sure he would have noticed a compromised condom.”

“What if she said she was on birth control?”

“Then the Captain was irresponsible. Even if he can’t get sick, we have no indication of whether or not his body can be a carrier of a disease. Regardless, it’s none of your business and certainly not your decision.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and turns on his heel, barely managing not to slam the door behind him. He ignores everyone and goes to the chamber Steve’s in. He goes through the first set of plastic sheeting, then through the doors of the air chamber. He lets the sharp blasts bombard him before opening the door to Steve. He goes to the bed, stopping at the foot and looking down at him.

“You stupid ass, Rogers.” His voice catches. “I can’t leave you alone for a goddamned second.”

Steve doesn’t respond, doesn’t move. His skin still has acid burns on it, marring all of him. They glisten with whatever salve the medical staff put on him. Bucky looks at the tech standing there. “What’s his status?”

“We’re setting up to do a CT scan for his lungs. Right now his heart seems to have regulated, but with his breathing issues, we’re going to wait on an ECG confirmation.”

Bucky walks beside the bed and puts his hand on Steve’s chest, feeling the far too familiar hitch to his breath. Panic Bucky thought he’d never feel again wells up in his chest. “Help him.”

“We will.” The tech nods. “You need to step out so we can do the scan.”

“Right.” He touches Steve’s jaw, runs his fingers over the softness of his beard. “You have to be okay, Stevie. No other options.” 

It aches to turn around and leave, but he does, standing just outside so he can watch everything. He feels the barely-there touch on his wing and glances at Sam. 

“He’s going to be fine.”

Sam nods. “He’s a tough guy.”

Bucky shakes his head. “No he’s not.”

It’s a long quiet moment before Sam sighs. “No. He’s not.”

“This is my fault.”

“As much as I’d like to agree and say it is, Steve’s a grown-ass man and makes his own choices. Even though most of them are damn stupid.”

“She’s pregnant. The girl.”

“Well, shit.”

Bucky sighs and rests his head against the glass wall of Steve’s room. “He has to be okay.”

Sam’s eyes stay on Steve. “He will.”

**

Tony hasn’t said anything to Bucky the entire three weeks he’s been in the tower. Bucky’s spent the majority of the time in the medical wing sitting outside Steve's room. The similarity to how Steve had been when Bucky was in cryofreeze isn’t lost on him.

Steve’s heart has stabilized and the acid burns have turned into to blotchy scars that are already fading. His lungs are the biggest issue, basically rebuilding themselves completely. They’ve kept Steve sedated, everyone aware that awake, he’d do too much too fast.

Natasha sits next to Bucky. “Have you slept lately?”

“Not tired.”

“No. You’re exhausted. Go. Sleep. I’ll stay here with him.”

“No.”

“James. Go.” She holds his gaze, and he knows he’s going to lose. “If he wakes up while you’re gone, I swear I’ll make sure you’re the first one he sees.”

He knows that’s a lie. That the doctors and techs and nurses will see Steve long before he does. Still, he blows out a breath and finally nods. “I’ll be in his rooms. Call. Immediately.”

“I will.”

Rubbing his eyes, he stands, then looks at Steve again. “I don’t know what to do, Natasha.”

“Sleep. We’ll figure out the next step after that.”

He doesn’t sleep. He closes his eyes, tosses and turns. All he sees behind his eyes is Steve in that concrete room looking closer to death than Bucky had ever seen. And if that doesn’t keep him awake, the thought of the baby growing inside the girl makes him want to climb the walls. He thinks about Steve and about the fact that, no matter what, he’ll keep it. Raise it.

And Bucky knows that he can’t be around for that. He’s too dangerous. Too unstable. Too jealous. Too possessive. All he’s done is push Steve away and now he’s going to be gone for good. Even with that, he thinks of Steve as a father and something twists inside him. Aches.

He sits up, pulling his wings around him. He blocks out the light from the windows. Sitting there silently, it takes everything in him to keep from going back to the ward. He wants to find Steve awake. Looking at him. Looking _for_ him.

He must fall asleep because he jerks when the door opens. Wanda is standing there, her eyes full of sympathy. Her hands have already been in his mind. Even without that prior contact, he thinks she probably would still sees more than he wants her to.

“Steve?”

“They did another CT. His lungs are starting to look better.”

“He’s not supposed to take so long to heal.”

“His body is still trying to make up for his blood loss. And I heard someone say that his lungs were nearly destroyed. If you and Tony had been later…”

“Don’t.” He spreads his wings and moves off the bed. “I can’t think about what ifs.”

“Have you spoken to either of them?” Her voice is soft, soothing. He knows she’s manipulating him. “The girl?” 

 

“No.” His voice sounds like it’s pushed through gravel. “I can’t promise that I won’t make them wish they’d never seen Steve, much less touched him.”

“May I ask a question?”

“You’ve dug around in my brain. Do I have anything you don’t know?”

“I didn’t look at anything that didn’t relate to the triggers you had.” She looks at him, eyes earnest. Bucky’s still not sure if he believes her. “So may I?”

He looks away but gives her a terse nod.

“I know he has always been your best friend. I know you love each other like brothers.” He sees her tilt her head. She’s so young, but her eyes are so old. “Why are you so angry that he has put the distance you asked for between you?”

“I don’t know.”

“You do.”

“He moved on. So quickly.” He doesn’t even realize what he’s saying until he’s spoken. He looks at her to see if her hands are glowing, pulling the words out of him. Instead there’s something he thinks might be understanding. Or maybe sympathy. “And it’s my fault. I pushed him away.”

“I don’t think so. I think perhaps you just never pulled him closer.”

Bucky doesn’t know what to say to that. He drops his head back and stares at the ceiling. “He could have died.”

“But he didn’t.” She reaches out and takes his hand. “I think we both know you’re not going to sleep. I’ll walk you back.”

They walk side by side, One of Bucky’s wings curved around her. They enter the medical wing just as Dr. Cho rushes into the Steve’s room. Bucky moves past Wanda, shoving several techs out of the way as they try to stop him from following the doctor.

Steve’s heart rate is elevated, the machines beeping loudly. Dr. Cho moves up to the head of the bed, putting a hand on Steve’s chest. “Relax, Captain Rogers. You’re at the tower. You’re currently on a ventilator. Let me help you ease it out. Can you inhale for me?”

Bucky watches Steve’s body move as he takes a breath and holds it.

“Perfect. Now, on the count of three, I want you to breathe out through your mouth. Ready?”

Steve nods slightly and then, when Dr. Cho reaches three, he blows out his breath and gags as she pulls the tube from his throat. She nods at one of the techs and he raises the bed slightly, offering Steve a drink from a cup. Steve takes the straw in his mouth, but he keeps his eyes lowered.

Bucky goes forward and sets his hand lightly on Steve’s ankle. “Hey, Rogers.”

Steve nods without looking up. Instead he turns to Dr. Cho. “When can I leave?”

“Not anytime soon. Your lungs basically had to regenerate completely. You need to stay here and rest.”

“I’d rather not owe anyone anything else.” He sits up and Bucky tightens his grip on Steve’s ankle without thinking, pulling it toward him and forcing Steve to fall back on the bed, his breath exploding out of him.

“Stay down.” Bucky’s voice is hard. “I’ve spent too much of my life with you not giving a damn about yourself. I’m fucking tired of it, and you’re not doing it anymore.”

“How is that your business?”

“You’re my goddamned friend, Steve.”

“Where’s Dessa?”

Bucky keeps his expression schooled, careful not to let Steve see how deep those words cut. “Locked up. With her father.”

“Oh.” Bucky can see something break inside Steve. “She was involved.”

“Steve…”

“It’s all right. I should have expected. Captain America. Not Steve Rogers.” He looks down at his hands. “Are you going to let me go, Dr. Cho, or am I walking out of here without permission.”

“You need to be monitored.” She shakes her head. “And there are a few things we should discuss. Alone.” The assistant raises the bed again so Steve can sit up more comfortably, then he leaves the room. Dr. Cho doesn’t look at Bucky. “You too, Sergeant.”

Bucky fully intends to protest, but her look stops him. His metal hand tightens into a fist, but he nods and steps away. Steve doesn’t even look at him. “I’ll be back.”

Steve shrugs and Bucky has to keep himself from burying his fist into a wall. He sinks down into the chair he’s spent most of the last three weeks in, watching as Dr. Cho carefully sits on the side of Steve’s bed. Even unable to hear, Bucky can tell exactly what she’s saying by Steve’s expressions. Shock. Happiness. Fear. And hurt. The kind of hurt, of sadness, that weighs Steve down, bending him closer to his breaking point.

Steve straightens and swings his legs over the side of his bed. Dr. Cho puts a hand on his arm, but Steve shakes her off. His whole body trembles when he stands, and Bucky’s on his feet and back in the room immediately.

“What’s wrong?”

“He wants to see her.”

“That’s not a good idea, Steve.”

“Get out of my way, Buck.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Steve’s jaw clenches as he pushes past Bucky. He leaves the room and Dr. Cho raises an eyebrow at Bucky as she pulls out her phone. Bucky glares at her, turns on his heel, and follows Steve.

“Your wings look good.”

Okay. Willfully pretending nothing’s wrong. The Steve Rogers speciality. “I still smack into things.”

“But you’re flying?”

“Yeah.”

Steve nods. “She said you know. Dr. Cho.”

“Her father said you two had… It made me suspect.” He shoves his hands into his pockets to keep from touching Steve. “Was it on purpose? I mean...were you serious? Trying?”

“I apparently can’t take care of myself. Don’t think I have any business with a kid.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Steve sighs, and his breath still hitches slightly. “No. Not on my part.”

“Do you love her?”

“We’ve only been seeing each other… Well. Before all of this, we’d only been seeing each other for a couple of months.”

“Before you left? Before these?” Bucky twitches his wings. “You never told me.”

“It wasn’t important. Serious.” Steve shrugs. “She seemed nice.”

“I didn’t know you were dating.” He doesn’t know what else to say. “Do you want it?”

“What?”

Bucky almost laughs at Steve’s outraged expression. “Sorry. I forgot you’re still a good Catholic boy under all that muscle.”

“I haven’t been a good Catholic boy since I was thirteen and started jerking off thinking about my best friend.”

Bucky’s step falters. It’s not what Steve says. Not completely. It’s the fact that one of them has actually verbally acknowledged what they’ve probably always known is between them. Or, if the sharp twist of Steve’s mouth is any indication, _Bucky_ always knew.

“I…”

“Don’t worry. That was a long time ago.” Steve stops outside a metal door in the lower level of the tower. The guard nods and unlocks the door. Steve walks in first, heading straight for the cell the girl is in. It’s got a bed, table, chair, and a screened-off area Bucky assumes is the bathroom. She’s on the bed when they walk in, but she jumps up as soon as she sees Steve.

She comes up to him, pressing her hand against the clear wall that Bucky knows is made to withstand the Hulk. “Steve. You’re okay.”

He nods. “How?”

“How?” She asks softly, tilting her head, obviously confused.

“How are you pregnant?”

She flushes and Bucky hates the picture in his head of Steve’s flushed body against hers. “My father... He gave me a container to keep the condom in.”

Steve closes his eyes. Bucky is tempted to break through the wall and strangle the fuck out of her. “And that’s all it was. To you.”

“No. Steve! No. You’re amazing. Wonderful. I… darling, I love you.”

“Nothing you say is going to change what happens to you.” Bucky can’t look at Steve. He’s too familiar with the pain that he knows makes the blue of Steve’s eyes darker. 

“The truth then?” She smiles. “It was so easy. You want so much. You reek of desperation.”

“Dr. Cho says your body can’t support the baby’s needs.” Steve’s voice is flat. Dead. “It needs more than your body can give it. It’s dying inside you, and she doesn’t know if it will kill you first.” Bucky looks over at him and, for the first time in his life, he can’t read Steve’s expression. “Guess it’s good that Peggy and I never had a chance to try.”

“You’re lying.” Her voice is hard and angry, her hand curving protectively over her stomach.

Steve’s smile is fragile. “I’m Captain America, remember? Always honest. Even if I didn’t want to be, I can’t lie worth a damn.” He takes a deep breath, and Bucky hears the hesitance on the exhale. “Dr. Cho will be down to talk to you about your options.”

He turns and walks away, his back ramrod straight. Bucky watches her face fall with a kind of hollow satisfaction before he follows Steve out. The door shuts behind them and Steve slides down the wall, knees to his chest, head bowed.

Bucky hates how easy it is for Steve to look so damn small. He sits next to him, arm pressed lightly against Steve’s. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I can’t not be.”

“I understood. Understand.You needing space from me. I put a lot of pressure on you, expectations for you to be someone you’re not. That you can’t be.”

“You didn’t. I did. I wanted to be him for you, and I couldn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter now. Whoever we were, whoever we are? It’s not the same. It can’t be. It shouldn’t be. Maybe we should accept that.”

“Would you stop goddamn martyring yourself? You’re the most important person in my fucking life from the day we met until now, until someone or something kills us.” He grabs Steve’s chin and turns him to face him. “I don’t care if we fight. I don’t care if we fuck. I don’t care if we spend the rest of our lives talking about the good old days. I want you to be around for it.”

“Wait. So fucking’s actually an option?”

Bucky laughs and, with a twitch of his shoulder, smacks Steve in the face with a wing. “Hey, who would have thought I’d end up an angel, huh?”

“Anyone who knew us and knew it was always me getting us into trouble.”

Bucky smiles and they’re quiet for a minute. “Did you like her? Love her?”

Steve shakes his head. “I thought after you came back, I’d feel less lonely. Which wasn’t fair. I shouldn’t have put that expectation on you.”

“Did she make you feel that way? Less lonely?”

“There was a while when I thought she was interested in Steve Rogers. I believed that. I wanted to believe that.” He laughs. “I think you and Peggy were the only ones who ever saw and liked him.”

“No. The Howlies. You were more than Captain America to them. And now. Natasha. Sam.”

“And yet.” He stands up and ruffles the feathers of Bucky’s wing. “I’m glad you’re doing okay. You know?”

“I wouldn’t be if it weren’t for you.”

Steve holds out his hand and pulls Bucky to his feet. He looks at him for a long time then pulls Bucky into a hug. Bucky wraps his arms around him, his wings spreading, then surrounding them both. Steve buries his head in the space between Bucky’s neck and shoulder. “Are you okay with those?”

“I don’t know.”

“He had Hydra info. Might have something. We can look if you want them gone.”

“Like I said. I don’t know.” He moves them, the ends of the feathers brushing Steve’s neck. He laughs and tries to pull away, but Bucky keeps a tight hold on him. “I’m sorry. About the baby.”

“It’s for the best.”

“I don’t know. You’d be a pretty… Well, not _cool_ dad, but your kid would totally win all the ‘well, my dad can…’ competitions.”

“You’re such a jerk.”

Bucky rests his hand on the back of Steve’s head. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“Also you needing to be rescued and then almost dying might have fixed things with Tony.”

“I’m still not taking the shield. I’m done. With it. With Captain America.”

“Maybe we should give it to Sam, and I could be the new Falcon with my fancy wings.”

“He wouldn’t give up Redwing.”

“He’d have to put some white and blue on him. Make him an eagle.”

Steve’s voice is muffled against Bucky’s skin. “Real wings would probably be too dangerous in a fight.”

“Only if they got close enough.”

Steve suddenly pulls back and looks at him sharply. “You’re serious?”

Bucky shrugs. “Turn everything horrible Hydra gave me into something good.”

“You’d have to sign the accords.”

“Well, with all your free time, you can put that righteous indignation to work and maybe make them better, get them amended so we can agree with them.”

“You don’t have to disagree with them because I do.”

“I trust your opinion more than anything else in this world.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m always right.” He tilts his head toward the door. “Case in point.”

”Lies. Steve Rogers is never wrong. He’s always on the side of the angels.” He touches his forehead to Steve’s. “Case in point.”

Steve cups Bucky’s cheek. “Why have I put up with you so long?”

“Eh, I said you were always right. I didn’t say you weren’t stupid.”

**

Sam sprawls out on the roof next to Bucky. “Can you use those things for some shade or something?” Bucky lifts his wings, letting the shade of them fall over him. Sam just glares as the movement takes away the bit of shade he’d had. “You are such an ass, man.”

“Well, have you _seen_ Steve’s ass? And Natasha’s? I’ve got amazing taste in ass.”

Sam groans as Bucky smirks. “I need better friends.”

Steve comes out of the roof access door with a six-pack of beer. Bucky glances over and smiles. “But what are you and Sam gonna drink?”

Ignoring him, Steve comes over and sits between them, setting the bottles next to Sam. Sam grabs three of them triumphantly. “Ha! These are mine. It’s all just wasted on your two anyway.”

Bucky spreads his wings again, leaning slightly against Steve. “How’d it go today?”

“Well, Tony threatened to punch me again, but with T’Challa’s help, I think we managed to get a few things ironed out.”

“Is everyone still intimidated by the former Captain America holding them to a higher standard?”

“Well.” Steve grabs a beer and hands it to Bucky before opening one for himself and taking a drink. “Mostly they seem to think that Steve Rogers is a complete and utter dick.”

Sam swallows around a laugh. “They’re not wrong.”

Steve shoves Sam lightly, both of them laughing. Bucky shifts, leaning back on his hands so Steve settles closer to him when he leans back away from Sam. Bucky can feel his soft exhale, the way Steve gives himself over to the contact. Moving his hand slightly closer to Steve, Bucky brushes his thumb just above the curve of Steve’s ass. 

A slight breeze ruffles Bucky’s wings, and he fights a grin as the feathers tease against the back of Steve’s neck, causing him to shiver. “Have you decided if you’re gonna sign once you get it all worked out?”

Steve sighs. “If it’s right. We’ve still got a ways to go. But probably. Everyone thinks I should.”

“You’ll know you’ll get in there if you’re needed. And once they’re what’s right, what’s fair…”

Steve nods. “I got all of you in trouble last time. I don’t want to do that again. And I can’t ask you to do something I’m not willing to do.”

“You jump out of planes without a parachute and none of us do that.” Sam bumps his shoulder against Steve’s. “You don’t make us do anything. Not even by example.”

“ _Especially_ by example,” Bucky says with a smirk.

Steve laughs. “Okay. Okay. If I help modify this and refuse to sign, that means I haven’t done my job. So, yeah. I’ll sign.”

“So when I sign,” Sam asks after another pull from his beer. “Do I put my name or can I just put Captain America?”

Bucky snorts. “You ain’t got the shield yet.”

“Gonna paint Black Lives Matter across the star.”

Steve nods his head and laughs. “Sounds good to me.”

“A black Captain America.” Bucky’s grin is wide. “People are gonna shit.”

Sam lies back on the roof, stretching out and resting his head on his hands. “Sounds good to me.”

**

Bucky crawls into Steve’s bed, shifting closer. He hasn’t moved in, needing something that’s his, some place he can hide. Still, he spends most of his nights with Steve, lying on his stomach with his wings hovering over them.

They haven’t done much, even though they’re trying to be together. This all feels new between them, for all that it’s over eighty years in the making. Steve’s still raw from his relationship with Dessa, from losing the baby, from the solid truth that he’ll never have kids. He pretends it doesn’t bother him, but Bucky knows Steve, even with all the changes they’ve been through.

And Bucky’s scared. Scared of ruining them by acting on this. Scared that his body and messed-up brain will remember that Steve is his mission, and he’ll hurt him or kill him, even after spending so many years keeping him alive.

Steve turns on his side and Bucky realizes he’s not wearing his tank top, his bare chest close enough to touch, taste. Reaching out, Steve runs his fingers lightly through Bucky’s feathers and a flare of heat floods through him. “That tickles.” It doesn’t. It makes Bucky want more.

Steve moves his hand down to Bucky’s shoulder instead, trailing a finger along his arm. The pressure of his touch registers on the vibranium and, even though he can’t actually feel it, he shivers anyway.

Bucky’s voice is rough in the darkness. “What are you up to, Rogers?”

“Well, if you don’t know, I’m going to think your reputation was all a lie.”

Bucky turns his head and grins. “Every single word was true.”

Steve’s hand goes up Bucky’s arm, then down again, starting a slow, steady rhythm. Bucky closes his eyes and exhales. He feels Steve lean in and make a soft sound as his lips graze over the now smooth joint of Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky tenses then relaxes with a shudder.

“Okay?” Steve whispers.

Bucky nods. “Yeah.” His voice is just as soft and quiet as Steve’s.

Another kiss on Bucky’s shoulder, then Steve’s moving along the skin to Bucky’s neck. Bucky moans softly, tilting his head to give Steve better access. Steve flicks his tongue in the hollow behind Bucky’s ear. He’s still whispering, but his voice is thicker, deeper. “Okay?”

Bucky’s voice breaks. “Please.”

Steve nuzzles Bucky’s jaw before scraping his teeth over the sharp line of it. Bucky turns his head, nudging Steve until he finds his mouth. His lips are slightly parted, his breath mixing with Steve’s. His moves his head a bit more, his lower lip grazing Steve’s. Steve catches it in his mouth, sucking lightly.

Bucky whimpers and moves closer, pushing Steve onto his back and settling against his chest, half on top of him. “Never thought this could happen.”

“Me either.” Steve cups the back of Bucky’s neck. “You’re sure?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and kisses Steve warm and slow. “Answer your question?”

“Dunno. Sometimes I’m a little slow on the uptake. Tell me again?”

“As often as it takes to get it through your thick skull.”

Steve looks offended. “Hey!”

Bucky laughs and presses closer before silencing Steve with another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Graphic description - Bucky's wings manifesting is described  
> Miscarriage - A character is informed she will suffer one  
> Abortion - Surprise news of a pregnancy prompts a character to suggest one


End file.
